


The Midpoint

by thorerre



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Post-Season/Series 02, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorerre/pseuds/thorerre
Summary: When things got better, they decided to go away.
Relationships: Dale Cooper/Audrey Horne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	The Midpoint

When things got better, they decided to go away. The destination didn't really matter for her and she let him choose the itinerary, watching his excitement and his love for the world as they were slowly returning to him. He had a map and a rented car; she had nothing except a little money of her own that she had made in the short period of working before the explosion. She took a couple of warm big sweaters with her which kept her warm in motels at night. He was wearing his flannels that made him look informal and closer to her _._ However gorgeous he was in his immaculate black suits, she liked flannels more. 

She wanted to be helpful with the map, imagining how she would study it while he drove, but obviously he was much more comfortable with maps. She should have known that. So she sat at the passenger seat, pulling her knees towards her chest, watching his finger tracing the winding lines and listening to him commenting on where they should turn.

When they were driving through empty highways, she would open the window and stretch out her hand, resisting the force of the wind, her fingers cutting its flow in little trickles. The wind blew into her face, making her squeeze her eyes. Sometimes she caught him watching her while she enjoyed the sensation; he smiled as the wind made his loose strands fall on his face. There was something tender in the way he looked at her, something that had always been in his eyes, but now he didn't make any efforts to suppress it. 

He told her about the places he had been to when he had been younger, the things he had seen, the people he had met. If she wanted, he would take her there, he said, he would show her every corner of the world. He talked about trees, the smell of the rain, the kindness of people you could come across while traveling. She loved the way how simple her life suddenly became; she had spent too many years suffocating in the walls of the Great Northern and now was finally breathing fresh air. For her Twin Peaks had never held the magic of the mountains, the Douglas firs and Norma's cherry pies.

* * *

They made a stop at a lake near one of the small towns they drove by. It was still early and there was no one except them. The sounds overwhelmed her: the birds, the soft rustling of leaves, the insects buzzing somewhere where she couldn't see them. Her hair was burning under the hot sun and she knew she needed to swim.

Looking back at him, she wondered where all her girlish seductiveness had gone. If they had found themselves here some months earlier, before all their tortures, she wouldn't have hesitated to take off her clothes and go to swim in the underwear; after all, he had nearly seen her naked once, when she had sneaked into his room. She smiled to herself, thinking of how silly it all was. Somehow she had forgotten how to be silly.

Without telling him anything she took off her t-shirt and shorts, dropped off her shoes. She felt his eyes on him, surprised and curious. She walked slowly into the lake, feeling the cool water around her feet. It was pure relief when she finally went fully into the water — it was something she had been unknowingly craving for.

He joined her a few minutes later. She was aware of her beauty; she had never felt more beautiful than at that moment, when he finally stopped avoiding looking at her and admiring her. She longed to feel his hands on her, to kiss him, running her damp fingers through his hair. His hand reached out to her, but only to cup her face, brushing his thumb against her cheek. It was enough, she thought, closing her eyes and melting under the touch; it was more than enough for now.

* * *

"Don't you think it would be better to get one room instead of two?" she asked. It got dark and she had been thinking about it since they had agreed to stop at the first motel they would see. "I mean, it would be cheaper."

He must know she wasn't really worrying about money. Even since she had refused her father's money and decided to live independently, he must know she didn't really care about it, at least not now. And she knew he knew that, when he replied with the very same smile that she had seen on him the day they had met.

"You're quite right. If you'd be comfortable."

"Of course I'd be. I feel so lonely when I can't sleep and there is no one to talk to."

"Well, I'm a pretty good listener," he smiled, taking his eyes away from the road for a moment to look at her. 

She laughed, remembering the night when they had stayed in his room until morning, doing nothing but talking. This time, she hoped, there would be another option.

* * *

It was strange to see her face without makeup. She used to always look perfect when someone could see her, even around her family. Now she was just herself, but she realized with surprise that she liked it more. She liked to be herself.

She didn't bother herself to get dressed after a shower, hoping — and some part of her was sure of it — that clothes were useless tonight. Wrapping a towel around her, she got out of the bathroom, walking slowly into the room. He was sitting on the bed, reading a book which he put aside immediately when he saw her.

She knew how soft her skin was after a hot shower, how irresistible it might be for someone who wanted her. She was sure he wanted her. Their traumas had removed all the barriers he had once put between them.

He reached out and carefully unwrapped the towel, letting it drop on the floor. She didn't feel shy or awkward. She had been dreaming of it for too long to be shy now. He put his hands on her waist, touching where she had longed for his touch, but still hesitating to move his hands higher or lower. His hands were not rough as someone else's hands might have been, they were not possessing her, they were worshipping her.

"Audrey," he whispered, looking up at her. "I want more than that with you. I want you to know—"

"Shh". She pressed a finger to his mouth. "I know."

When they were finally lying together under the thick blanket, she was so happy that for a moment she even wondered if it was for real, not a dream. But even if she lived inside a dream, at least it was finally not a nightmare. All her previous years seemed to have led to this moment: in the middle of nowhere, in a motel on a lost highway, sharing bed with the only man she had ever wanted.

"Nobody knows where we are," she said, playing with his locks. "I don't know why, but I like the idea of it."

His fingers were tracing the curve of her waist.

"It creates some sense of privacy," he replied after a pause. "Nobody knows where you are, so nobody can disturb you. You take a rest from everything. That's why I loved so much to take road trips alone when I was younger."

She tried to imagine him younger, in his twenties, on dusty roads under the hot sun. It was still hard to believe he had been her age — yet at her age he seemed to have seen more of the world than she had seen so far.

"I used to disappear from home for a couple of days," she said, recalling that she too had some experience to share. "That's why nobody was surprised at first when I got into trouble." She paused, making sure that he understood what trouble she was talking about, not wishing to specify. Talking about that became harder over time.

"Where did you go?"

"To Laura. We used to go in nearby towns and stay here for a day or two. We never did anything wild, though," she shrugged. "No men, no drugs. Just the two of us. It was intoxicating. Nobody would have guessed that we did something together."

"Just like us now," he smiled.

"Sometimes they'll have to know," she said, covering his hand with hers, feeling him touching her. "But not now."

"Not now," he agreed. "Now we belong only to ourselves."

* * *

They didn't talk about what they would do next, when it was time to return. One day it would be important and she would hope for certain things for them, afraid that these things might not come true. But now nothing seems to matter, except that they were there and they were driving further. And, of course, that they were not sleeping in separate rooms anymore.

"It's a wonderful feeling, Audrey," he said one evening, "falling in love with life all over again."

She knew what he talked about. And she felt it herself, in her own way. She had her own healing in his trip.

"For me it's more like the life itself," she replied. "I don't think I really lived before."

He chuckled. "To me you always seemed the most lively person."

"Maybe." She breathed out the smoke of her cigarette into the open window. "Maybe my life began on that morning, when I saw you across the hall in the Great Northern. It shouldn't be right," she added, concerned. "A person's death shouldn't cause another person's happiness."

For some time they were silent, and she knew they were thinking about the same: a body wrapped in plastic, itchy palms, perfumed notes, disturbing phone calls in the middle of the night.

"Sometimes happiness chooses very strange paths to us," he finally said. She couldn't argue.


End file.
